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El Sojourner Andaluz

Over thirty five years of wandering in Andalucía, from isolated mountain villages to dynamic vibrant cities, have left a few tales to tell, so here I shall share with the interested

What a Way to Learn a Language!
Sunday, September 21, 2014 @ 12:54 PM

I remember the moment it hit me, I mean really hit me. Previously it had just been another Item on the list.

Learn Spanish!

Glibly scribbled amongst such other necessities as mosquito repellent and sun cream. I took it seriously, or so I thought. I'd bought a box set of cassette tapes, that’s what we had back in the day, and with the regulation pencil for sorting out the spaghetti that the player would churn out, I was happy that I the language problem covered. So I cruised the length of Spain dutifully digesting and repeating the wisdoms of this ingenious system. It wasn't to long before I had a chance to put this into practice, I had pulled into a small village to top up on petrol and quickly found a suitable victim lazing on a bench. I bid the elderly gent 'good day' and projected in my best telephone voice; “dónde está la gasolinera?” Well, his reply sounded like gargling along to La Cucaracha for what I understood of it, unperturbed I drove of in the general direction of his arm waving. Perhaps the folk in the north of the country, like my homeland, had a strange way of pronunciation, surely they would speak clearer down south I mused, as I went on my way.

But the real defining moment was the first time I had ventured into Lola's shop.

I had by this time been some months in Spain and had done something that I had not envisaged doing, simply because I had never imagined in my wildest dreams, that I would be able to afford to, I bought a house. A cottage to be more precise, in a small mountain village 14 kilometres inland and 750 meters above the Mediterranean Sea. The cottage was in need of complete renovation but was habitable in a very basic way. I therefore found myself as not only one of the few foreigners to have ever visited the village but the only one to have chosen to live there. I was somewhat of an oddity but that has always been par for the course.

 

The first time I crashed through the bead curtains of Lola's I was confronted by a gaggle of black widows who were all staring at me. A most uncomfortable feeling like an alien emerging from a spaceship under the gaze of a waiting crowd. The black widows parted in unison leaving a corridor to the counter where Lola was beaming a pleasant smile in my direction. I felt the eyes boring into my back as I approached the counter. Wanting some cold meats I spat a few words Into air. The room erupted into a loud animated conversation, presumably discussing my request. Eventually Lola nodded to me, disappeared out the back, on return she proudly placed a small tin ashtray on the counter. Completely derailed I cascaded some loose change onto the counter, half of which fell to the floor, sending the black widows deliriously scrabbling to collect the coins. My embarrassment was by now acute, I was burning bright red and I just wanted out of there. The ladies arranged payment for my purchase handed me the remaining coins and ashtray, I swept the room with a broad smile and a thank you and crashed out of the shop.

 

The enormity of it all settled on me like a great weight, I had to completely and utterly learn this language or I would not be able to live here. I threw myself into it, all or nothing. As I worked on the cottage I played the radio, not a music channel but a news type chat channel, the same applied to when I was driving. I went daily to Lola's with lists of what I wanted, that worked well, before long I could repeat the list without referring to it, I did the same when ordering building materials, another set of words. I got an old telly and watched news and cartoons, Elvis Presley spoke perfect Spanish, but could only sing in English! I would accost the locals in the street just to attempt some pronunciations. I frequented the bar......!

The bar became my classroom, as the patrons realised that I was keen to attempt to speak. Everyone wanted to be my teacher, sometimes all at the same time which became confusing, as did the local wine. I was approaching it as sounds that needed tagging to objects, actions or emotions, as a musician this worked for me, in fact it was very similar to the way I had learnt my native language.

Gradually, I relaxed into it, slow but steady, but you work with what you've got, and I had a radio, a telly, a dictionary and a village. You must bear in mind that this was pre-internet, and I was having to make it up as I went along. I found that it marinated into my Physic, my thinking and even my dreams.

The spin-offs to this approach were immeasurable; the locals were getting to know this odd-ball Guiri, and I them. I was forging friendships, and became part of a very small community.

I'm not sure that I could have learnt the language any other way!

 



Like 1




5 Comments


Jasmina said:
Sunday, September 21, 2014 @ 2:43 PM

You sound just the opposte to an hispanophobe!


bobi said:
Sunday, September 21, 2014 @ 3:00 PM

I Kinda made it up, I had Spaniphile but it sounded a bit weird ...any suggestions Jasmina x


Mike Fish said:
Saturday, September 27, 2014 @ 12:37 PM

Ha Ha.... I had a similar situation in a bar. Funnily enough one of the first words I learnt was ashtray, which always surprises the natives that I can ask for one! I recall asking a very attractive young waitress for a straw.She howled in laughter.

She said that whilst I could use that word, another one is better. When I asked her to interpret my mistake she said "it is when a man plays with himself for enjoyment!!"

Oh the joys of trying to learn a language!


Barbara Tremain said:
Monday, September 29, 2014 @ 8:28 PM

Muy interesante Bobble. Y lo se verdad. X


bobi said:
Monday, September 29, 2014 @ 9:46 PM

Hey Mike its the mistakes that we seem to learn the most from especially the funny ones.
Nice to see you been here Barbie hope to see you soon x


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